


Heavy

by panther3751



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panther3751/pseuds/panther3751
Summary: the things we carry with us, outside and after battle





	Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> Written January 2009. Drabble, short, one-shot.

The suit was being pulled into the mechanics' processing hanger, and distantly Zechs could hear the warning sirens flaring around him, a pulsing and throbbing thing, even within the darkness of the suit. He supposed it meant he was finally coming to - and then he tried to think of why he was here, within the hanger, his suit powered down and unresponsive, where just a moment ago he was in space, working on the Station's hull plating. He wracked his mind, and decided to open his eyes. And then ...

Shuddering, he gripped the controls again - so clunky and utilitarian, it made a Leo seem customized - and tried to get a hold of himself. Breathed deeply, smoothly, calmly. In and out. He didn't open his eyes again. That was a mistake. Though it at least allowed him to remember what happened. Absently, Zechs wondered if he should have just allowed his memory to remain blank upon that detail.

They were indeed working on the hull plating. Installing new ceramic tiles to keep the sun's distant rays from baking the scientists and mechanics inside, it was a routine manuver. Except some hair-brained technician hadn't properly soldered one of the miscellaneous electrical lines underneath the plate, causing a short. They had to repair that, also. Accidents always happened, and though Zechs was a perfectionist - and very good at what he did, thank you very much - something must had gone wrong, because there was a bright flash, and then ...

No fire, no spark. Just an arc of current. But the EMP was enough to knock out the controls of Zechs' suit after the flash, which momentarily blinded him - even if the suit wasn't black and dead. What happened afterwards the man wasn't proud of, made him regret remembering. Because despite the lack of fire, despite the cool feeling of the suit around him, he felt a burning sensation envelop his body.

Pain. Great, fiery, licking pain, on his arms and his back, stealing his oxygen. The headset was independently powered, so his panic was transmitted over the air as he felt the suit close in around him. The hot smell of burning metal was clogging his senses, telling him he may mercifully suffocate before he was burned alive. His environment suit was melting into his skin - bits of the Epyon were cutting themselves deeper into his body - his left knee was in agony ...

Zechs struggled not to remember that now, clearly hearing the warning sirens, trying to clam down. Before him, mercifully, the construction suit's hatch opened, almost blinding him again with the sudden light, helping to dispel the claustrophobic sensation of being trapped. Blearily, he made out a figure, reaching out to him.

A fragment of memory. The bombing of the Victoria Academy dormitories. It was his turn, now, was it, to be humbled by such weaknesses.

"Noin," he rasped, his voice hoarse. Humiliated as he was, he kept his face utterly calm. He wouldn't show his weaknesses again to these people. But Zechs couldn't manage to ungrip the controls, as if his skin had been burned onto the plastic again. Gently, his friend lifted his fingers, drew him up and out of the tiny chair, which he was almost too tall for.

Zechs shuddered as Noin braced him onto the lift, all but holding him up as the platform descended.

"I'm heavy," he managed to say. The gentleman within him was all too aware of his weight pressing down on her well-built, but slighter form.

"No, you're not," she replied softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Never betaed. I dug this out of LJ before it got purged forever.


End file.
